


Loose threads and faded colours

by JamieDragon



Series: Out of sight [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Blind Character, Comfort, Ducks, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, Permanent Injury, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:56:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25416529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JamieDragon/pseuds/JamieDragon
Summary: Not being able to see makes it harder to pick out nice clothes. But Jaskier is capable and Geralt does his best to help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Out of sight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1840867
Comments: 19
Kudos: 213





	Loose threads and faded colours

**Author's Note:**

> I liked writing blind!Jaskier, and apparently some people here liked it too and wanted more. So I'm going to write more snippets like this from time to time. See how his blindness effects different situations and how he overcomes problems. Feel free to leave suggestions if you want.  
> This one is about clothes. And then a little bit of angst. And then... ducks? Idk. Hope you enjoy. ♡

"And this one?"

"Blue."

Jaskier sighed. "My dear heart, you have to be more specific than that."

Since losing his sight, getting dressed was one of Jaskier's many newfound struggles. Not the act itself, he could manage well enough, but making sure what he put on looked good. Jaskier very much liked his bright colours, but he had no wish to dress like a madman. Or Valdo Marx.

His doublets were easy. Though he could no longer see them, he knew them well, and each had their distinctive sleeves or slashings or embroidery, making sure he knew which was which by just touching them. Same went for his breeches. Each pair had details that matched its doublet, so it wasn't too hard pairing the right garments together.

The shirts… Well, they were more difficult. Though they varied in colour, they were too alike in design. But no one could say Jaskier was an idiot (alright, they _could_ and _did_ , but they _shouldn't_ ), so it didn't take too long to come up with a solution. He had Geralt sort shirts of the same colour together, and then spent part of that evening marking them using needle and slightly thicker thread. White got one stitch, grey got two, and so on. Placing the stitches near the hemline of each shirt, he made sure that they wouldn't be seen by others when he was dressed and his shirt tucked in. But they would be there and easy to find, so Jaskier could pick out a shirt with the right colour. He felt rather proud of his problem solving skills.

But the biggest obstacle came later. After he had gotten a shower of red wine (which sounded poetic and decadent in theory, but turned out to be anything but in practice). He had been completely innocent too. Just him and Geralt sitting at their table in the corner (it had been Geralt's turn to pick), eating and drinking and just having a nice conversation. And then some drunk idiot had bumped into the barmaid just as she passed by behind Jaskier, and suddenly he was drenched. And of course he had been wearing a pale blue doublet. Nothing that could have withstood the wine.

Still, he had made a valiant effort. It felt like he scrubbed the garment for hours, now and again holding it up for Geralt to see, only to get a grunt towards the negative. No matter how much he cleaned it, the stains apparently remained.

Down one doublet from his wine shower, and another one from a hunt that had happened before… "the incident"... Jaskier realized he had no choice but to get at least one new sewn up. Perhaps two, if he could afford it. Geralt had grumbled that he really didn't need to come along.

"You'll have the tailor. It's his _job_ to help pick out the right fabrics."

"For clients who can see what he's suggesting, yes." Jaskier had paused his playing to better convince Geralt. "I need _you._ For one, you know me. You know what I like and don't, so you can help me much easier. And for two, how can I know we will even understand each other? What if he says something is petrol blue, but I would call it turquoise? What if we don't agree on the correct shade of saffron? And besides, he might be a scrupulous businessman who's only waiting to take advantage of some poor sod who can't see what he's doing!" Not to mention Jaskier preferred to have him there as company. 

Geralt had relented, and now they were here. Jaskier passing his fingers over the rolls of fabric, searching for something that felt nice, and a somewhat grumpy witcher following behind him, answering every time Jaskier asked what colour something was.

The answers however, weren't all that helpful. Perhaps Geralt's revenge for having been dragged along.

"If you don't know the name, at least describe it," Jaskier smiled. He was having fun, despite this new complexity to the task. "What has this colour?"

"Your eyes used-"

Geralt broke off the sentence, but Jaskier had already heard. It felt like a punch to the gut, and he suddenly wasn't having very much fun anymore.

"Used to?" His voice sounded small among the rolls of fabric. Smaller than he wished. "What do you mean?"

"Hmm." Jaskier didn't need to see the witcher to know that the man regretted his words. It was evident in his hesitation to answer, to explain.

"Geralt? What… what colour are my eyes?"

"Blue," Geralt finally said. "They're still blue. Just paler."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I…"

But Jaskier already knew. After having had to comfort him, Geralt hadn't wanted to make him more upset. Jaskier understood. But he didn't like that Geralt had kept quiet, at the same time as he wished it would have continued to be a secret. Maybe it really was something to the expression that ignorance was bliss.

"Jaskier?"

"I'm fine." He waved a somewhat dismissive hand in Geralt's direction. "I just… I need some air."

The tailor's shop felt too stuffy and cramped now. Was it possible to feel the walls closing in without seeing said walls?

A strong hand came to rest at the small of Jaskier's back, grounding him and pulling him out of what could have turned into a spiral of distress, and he let Geralt gently guide him outside.

The sun on his face and the soft breeze in his hair calmed him too, and made him feel a bit better.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I forced you to come along, and then-"

"Don't apologise," Geralt interrupted. He continued to lead Jaskier away from the busy street, until they stopped by a bench. It must have been a bit hidden away, since the city sounds were lower here, and the cool shade and singing of birds told Jaskier they must be under some great tree. Sitting down on the bench, Jaskier found Geralt's hand with his own.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you." Geralt's voice was low and regretful.

"If I can't apologise, you can't either."

"Hm."

"And I understand why you didn't. I just…" He sighed. "I don't know. It's so insignificant, and still it feels like another part of me has been taken away."

"Nothing of you is gone. You're still you."

"Perhaps."

They sat in silence for a while, and Jaskier allowed himself to take comfort in the birdsong and the warm feeling of Geralt close beside him, their fingers intertwined in his lap.

"Duck egg," Geralt said suddenly, and Jaskier turned his face towards him in confusion. 

"What?"

"That's the colour of your eyes now. Or at least as close as I could get."

Jaskier felt a warmth in his chest, which had nothing to do with the nice weather. "You tried to name it?"

"Well, I thought… that if, when, I told you they had changed, you would like to know." Geralt sounded slightly embarrassed, and Jaskier tightened his hold on his hand. "So I found this artist who helped me. Mixed colours until I thought it was just about right. He said that was duck egg blue."

"Duck egg blue."

"Hmm. Had hoped for something with a better name."

"I like it," Jaskier said, turning the name over in his mind. "It's something almost… comforting about it. And who doesn't like a good egg. Or a good duck."

"Hm."

"Maybe I should get one. Some blind people have dogs to help them, right? Why couldn't I have a duck."

"You most certainly will _not_ get a duck."

"We'll see about that."

"No, we won't," Geralt answered, and after a moment added; "At least you won't."

"Low blow!" Jaskier gasped, and elbowed Geralt in the side. "Just you wait. I will get the best duck there ever was. It's name will be Lord Magnificent!"

"I will not have a duck with us on hunts."

"Not even if I train it to help you fight monsters?"

Geralt clearly tried to sound exasperated, but Jaskier could detect the smile in his voice. "If you manage that, I will give it another consideration."

"You have Roach. It's only fair that I too get a pet." He rested his head against Geralt's sturdy shoulder. "Thanks."

"Hm. Don't mention it." Geralt squeezed his hand. "And Roach isn't a pet, she is a trusted companion."

"Of course."

" _You_ are the pet."

"Hey!"


End file.
